


White as Snow, Red as Blood

by MedieavalBeabe



Category: Fairytale - Fandom, Snow White - Fandom
Genre: Gen, Gender-bend - Freeform, Role-Reversal, fairytale
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-16
Updated: 2013-07-24
Packaged: 2017-12-12 01:08:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/805381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MedieavalBeabe/pseuds/MedieavalBeabe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once upon a time there was a young prince born with skin white as snow. But his handsome stepfather grew jealous of the youth's looks and decided to have him secretly killed. One the run, the prince falls in with some kind-hearted dwarfettes but will he get back to the woman he loves?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Someday

Once upon a time, in a far away land, there lived a young prince. His name was Gwyn; named for his snow-white skin and fair features. You see, before he was born, Gwyn’s parents, the King and Queen, wished for their child to be born so beautiful, with hair dark as ebony and skin white as snow, and their wish was shortly granted. But their happiness was short lived as soon after his birth, Gwyn’s father caught a fever and died. 

The Queen was distraught and worried for her young son, because she knew he needed a father figure in his life. At the persuasion of her friends, she took a fair young lord as her new husband. The man’s name was Lucius but while he was good looking, his heart was twisted and vain. Nevertheless, the Queen felt that she had found a satisfactory father figure for her son. 

So, Gwyn was raised by the pair of them until he was eight years old, when his mother too succumbed to illness and died, leaving him in the care of his stepfather. That worked in Lucius’ favour. The first thing he did after his wife’s funeral was banish the servants from the castle. The second thing he did was to make Gwyn his person servant. He dressed the poor boy in ragged clothing and forced him to do all the chores; to cook and clean without a break day in and day out. 

This, however, did little to dampen Gwyn’s spirits. He grew up to be a kind-hearted, strong and loving young man and did all his work without complaint or question. Nevertheless, he did long to escape the palace walls and see what the world was really like beyond. The only glimpse he got was through the small wrought iron gate that had used to be the tradesman’s entrance back when servants still worked at the castle. From there, he could see the twisted clusters of trees and the green valley leading to a beautiful castle in the distance. 

“Who lives in that castle, Stepfather?” he had once asked Lucius. 

“Just get back to your work and stop daydreaming,” Lucius had snapped. 

“Someday,” Gwyn muttered to himself now as he swept the courtyard. “Someday I’ll know.” He was now sixteen and his desire to see past the castle walls hadn’t faded a bit. 

A white pigeon swooped down from the top of the castle. He had a wife and a nest up there, Gwyn knew. He had refrained from clearing it out until the baby birds were strong enough to fly. It would anger his stepfather if he found out, but Gwyn didn’t care. He didn’t have the heart to turf the things out of their nest. The pigeon landed on the wall of the wishing well, cocked its head on one side and cooed. 

“Hello,” said Gwyn, with a smile, reaching into his pocket for half a cracker he had in there. “Do you want something to eat?” He broke the cracker up and scattering it for the pigeon, who pecked at it, appreciatively. “You’re lucky,” Gwyn told him. “You can just fly over the castle walls. No one can keep you locked up anywhere.” He swept a little more vigorously. “Someday...I can’t just spend my whole life cooped up in here, with no freedom.”

The pigeon cooed, sympathetically and landed on his shoulder, nuzzling his cheek with its head. Gwyn smiled. “At least I’m not alone, I suppose.”

He was about to go back to sweeping when he heard it. The most beautiful sound he had ever heard in his life. The sound of an angel singing; for who else but an angel could have such a beautiful voice?

“Someday they will see  
Walls and barriers cannot hold me  
No matter how high they go  
Someday we’ll be free  
To see all there is to see  
That someday they will know  
They cannot keep us bound from the world  
They cannot keep us locked away  
Forever  
I know freedom’s got to come  
Someday we’ll be free  
Someday...”

With a leaping heart, Gwyn went over to the gate and stared out. Sitting amidst the twisted trunks of the trees, upon the soft green blanket of grass was the most beautiful young woman he had ever seen in his life. She had pale skin, not as pale as his of course, for hers also had a rosy tiny to it. Her hair was long and fuzzy, but not large and busy; it was thinner and tamed and bright red, the colour of apples and blood and love. She had large, hazel eyes and rosy lips. She was lithe and slight. She wore a dress with a blue bodice and skirt, purple over-sleeves that were slit at the elbows revealing blue under-sleeves and a purple overskirt that was slit up the front to reveal the blue beneath. She wore black slippers on her feet. She had tied a soft, dusky-pink rose into her hair. Beside her, a large piebald brown and white horse grazed. 

“Someday,” she sang, reclining against the grass.   
“Someday they will see  
Nothing they possess can hold all of me  
Don’t they know that I must fly away?  
For a heart must be free  
So someday they must see  
I’ll find my freedom someday...”

Gwyn watched her, hypnotised, as a tiny bluebird came down and landed in her hand. She smiled at the tiny creature. “Well, hello, there,” she said. “And what have you been doing this fine day? Flying? Singing? Making a nest for winter?”

The bluebird pecked, almost playfully at her finger and then flew off again. The horse, which had been quite cheerfully grazing this whole time, raised its head and snorted to ward off a passing fly. Its eyes fell on Gwyn. It let out a whinny. 

Alarmed, Gwyn ducked back, pressing himself flat against the wall out of sight. 

“What is it, Starbuck?” asked the woman, catching his bridle and patting him. “What did you see?”

Starbuck snorted. Glancing around as far as he dared, Gwyn realised the woman was coming up to the gate. He stayed as still as a statue, not daring to move. “Hush,” he mouthed at the pigeon. 

She came right up to the gate, wrapping her arms around the bars and gazed into the courtyard. Gwyn wondered if she could hear his heartbeat; to him it sounded like the loudest thing in the world. She stayed for a few minutes, her eyes falling to the ground and then, with a smile, she stepped back. “Come on, you,” she said to Starbuck, catching his reins. “Let’s go home.”

As she moved away, Gwyn allowed himself to breath out and step from his hiding place. No sooner had he done so then a pebble suddenly flew with a whistle through the bars of the gate and hit him on the head. “Ow!” he exclaimed. 

“I knew it!” She was back, grinning at him. “I knew there was someone there! I saw your shadow on the ground!”

“Did you have to throw stones at me?” Gwyn asked, indignantly. 

“Sorry. My aim isn’t great. So, why were you spying on me?”

“I wasn’t spying. Well, not intentionally. I just heard you singing. You’ve got a beautiful voice.”

She blushed. “Well, thank you.”

Gwyn hesitated. He’d never been in this position before. He hadn’t met anyone new in eight years. “I know how you feel,” he blurted. “About being trapped, I mean.”

“You do?” Her eyes widened. “You mean, you feel trapped here too?”

“Well, I’m a servant,” he told her. Need she know the truth? Would she even believe him? A prince, reduced to the life of a servant? He doubted it. He spread his arms around the courtyard. “I’m not permitted to go beyond these walls.”

“Oh, that’s awful!” 

He nodded. “What about you?”

“What about me?” she asked, almost mischievously. 

“Well, are you a lady or a duchess or...?”

“Oh, no,” she said, quickly. “I’m a ladies’ maid. I’m only here alone because my lady wanted me to bring her some wild flowers.”

Gwyn smiled. “Pardon me for saying so, but you look too beautiful to be just a maid.”

“I could say the same of you,” she replied. 

“Don’t my clothes say otherwise?” He looked down at his ragged tunic and tattered hose. “How can I be anything else?”

“Is it just you here? Or are there others?”

“No, it’s only me. The King had the servants banished after the Queen died, all except me, I mean.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

It suddenly felt too strange to be talking to him from the other side of a gate, she decided. “Look, can’t you step out for a moment?” she asked. “I feel silly talking to you through a gate as if we were lovers caught in a family feud rather than two equals who’ve only just met.”

“I can’t. If the King found out...” Gwyn drew his hand across his throat and smiled. 

“Then may I come in, please?”

“Um...” He hesitated and then decided yes, yes she could. After all, he was a Prince, why could he not bend the rules just once? And after all, his stepfather had never told him he couldn’t allow people into the castle. “Yes, alright, then.” He fumbled with the rusty catch of the gate and finally it swung back to allow her inside. She brought the horse with her. Starbuck snorted and flicked his tail but otherwise remained silent. “He’s, um, a beautiful animal,” Gwyn said, turning red in embarrassment. 

“Thank you.” She patted the horse. “I had him for my tenth birthday. You can stroke him if you like; he’s very gentle.”

Gwyn reached out slowly and patted the horse’s velvet muzzle. The horse closed his eyes in contentment. “Hello, Starbuck,” Gwyn said. 

“How do you know that’s his name?”

“I heard you say it just now.”

“Oh. I did, didn’t I?”

“You didn’t say what your name was, though,” he added, daringly. 

“It’s Rhiannon.”

“Mine’s Gwyn. Well,” he added, looking at his hand in comparison to hers. “You can see why.”

She giggled. “Are you an only child, Gwyn?”

“Yes, sadly.”

“You’re so lucky.”

“Lucky?” He glanced at her. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I’m the youngest of three.” She sat down on the wall of the well. “Both my sister and brother are married and now my parents are nagging at me to marry too. But I don’t want to; at least not until I find a man I can love.”

Gwyn nodded. “Well, you don’t want to spend your whole life bound to a man you don’t love.”

Rhiannon sighed and straightened up. “I mean, all I’m asking for is someone kind and loving who likes animals and understands my need to be free, not trapped inside the same four walls all the time. Why is that too much to ask?”

Gwyn swallowed, feeling his heart beat faster. “It isn’t. Or, well, it shouldn’t be.”

“But all the men I’ve ever met have been proud, arrogant, stuck up, haughty, selfish and vain.”

“I know the type.”

“And only interested in a girl if she’s beautiful. Why should beauty matter? A person should be loved for their spirit, not their looks.”

Gwyn had to agree with her. “I’ve read books where people marry for looks or status and they never end happily.”

“Exactly! The only times they do are when the heroes defy the social norms expected of them and marry for love.”

In that second, both felt that they had found a mutual understanding. The silence was broken by Starbuck attempting to tear up the rose bush. 

“Starbuck!” hissed Rhiannon, dragging him away. “Don’t be so rude! I’m sorry,” she added, “he loves roses.”

Gwyn smiled. “That’s alright; no harm done.”

Rhiannon glanced up at the sky. “Well, I suppose I should be going.”

“Must you?”

“Yes. I did promise I wouldn’t be late. If I am, I’ll be in a heap of trouble.”

Without stopping to think about what he was doing, Gwyn helped her up into the saddle. “But, will I see you again?”

She smiled down at him. “I don’t see why not.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Yes!” She said it with such eagerness that Gwyn knew she must be feeling the way he felt right now. “Yes,” she added, composing herself. “Tomorrow. Goodbye, Gwyn.”

She urged Starbuck forwards out of the castle.

“Goodbye, Rhiannon,” whispered Gwyn, watching her leave. 

Unknown to him, however, his stepfather had seen the whole thing...


	2. Falling in Love (With Love)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once upon a time there was a young prince born with skin white as snow. But his handsome stepfather grew jealous of the youth's looks and decided to have him secretly killed. One the run, the prince falls in with some kind-hearted dwarfettes but will he get back to the woman he loves?

Rhiannon felt a twinge of guilt in her stomach as she rode away from the man she had just met. Why had she felt the need to lie? She knew the answer.

Because a love between a princess and a servant would be completely impossible.

She shook her head. “Why, oh, why was I born a princess?” she groaned to Starbuck. “Of all things to be born as!”

Starbuck snorted, uncaringly. She smiled and patted his mane. “Not that you understand this stuff or care. All you care about is being fed, groomed and kept in a nice, clean, dry stable and ridden regularly.” 

Ahead of her, the castle loomed. From this angle, it looked like it was floating in the sky, on a cloud. Rhiannon sighed. “Aaaand we’re home again!”

If her brother Hans had been there at that point, and she was glad he wasn’t, he would have pointed out that talking to herself was a sign of madness. Well, she wasn’t really, she was talking to Starbuck, although she reflected, when she did talk to herself, it was because it was the only way she could be sure of any intelligent conversation. 

Being the youngest of three was never easy; especially when you considered what both her siblings had been through in their lives. Still, she did often wonder where that was where she got her rebellious spirit from. 

“Your Highness!” exclaimed Brighton, the head manservant as she rode into the courtyard. “There you are! You know, your mother is going spare!”

“Alright, Brighton,” sighed Rhiannon with a grin as she dismounted from Starbuck. “Could you please take Starbuck back to his stable? I’ll sort him out later.”

“Now you know your parents don’t approve of you doing it by yourself, miss,” said Brighton. 

“I like mucking out his stable,” sighed Rhiannon. “And I’m doing it; as soon as I’ve reassured them that I haven’t been eaten by wolves.”

She hurried into the castle. Up in the sitting room, Queen Bella was pacing back and forth, wringing her hands in frustration. “Mother,” said Talia, her oldest, with a sigh. “It’s fine. She’ll be alright. You know what a free spirit Rhiannon is.”

“That’s why I worry,” sighed her mother.

That was when the door opened and King Alexander, leading his youngest child by the shoulder, walked into the room. “Crisis averted,” he announced.

“Rhiannon!” sighed her mother, seizing her in a hug. “Where on Earth have you been?”

“I just went for a ride,” Rhiannon protested. 

“Beyond the castle boundaries?”

“It’s not fair on Starbuck being cooped up in the castle grounds all the time,” Rhiannon protested.

“Rhiannon, have you been rolling on the grass?” sighed her father. “Look at your dress; crumpled and grass-stained!”

“I can change before tonight,” she countered. “Anyway, what’s the big deal? I didn’t go far. And I’m not a child anymore.”

“Oh, come on,” sighed Talia, “you remember what happened to me that time I wandered off.”

“Well, no evil faerie has put a curse on me,” Rhiannon reminded her. When she had been the same age as Rhiannon, Talia had pricked her finger on a spindle and fallen into a deep sleep that could only be broken by True Love’s kiss. Luckily for her, however, she had met the man of her dreams only the night before the incident so the sleeping curse the malevolent faerie had put on her had been swiftly broken. Rhiannon had been eight at the time. 

“Rhiannon, we just don’t want anything happening to you,” sighed Bella. 

“I’m perfectly fine,” Rhiannon insisted. 

The door opened and Hans poked his head into the room. “Oh, good, you found her, then?”

Rhiannon rolled her eyes. “Haven’t you got a wife to get back to, Hans?”

“You’ll probably have a husband to get back to soon,” he countered, stepping into the room properly. 

“Not if she doesn’t change,” their father reprimanded her, sternly. 

“Oh, Father, I don’t see why I have to go to this dance tonight anyway. I know you want me to get married, but I want to marry for love.” She glanced at her mother. “Like you two did.”

Her father’s demeanour softened and he took his wife’s hand with a smile. Once upon a time he had been under a curse that transformed him into a hideous beast and the only way to break the curse was for a girl to fall in love with him and promise to marry him. Bella had been that girl. She and Alexander loved one another more than life itself and, usually, they would have wished the same for their children too. But after what had happened to Talia, they just wanted to make sure that their youngest daughter was provided for and thus they wanted her to find a husband.

“And you two,” added Rhiannon, glancing at her siblings. Hans had met a lovely woman named Ashenputtal who had arrived at a ball dressed in a beautiful ball gown and glass slippers. When she had left at midnight and left one of the slippers behind, Hans had tracked her across the country to find the mysterious maiden whose foot the slipper fitted. Eventually he had found and married her. “And anyway, Ash was a country maiden,” added Rhiannon. “I know, I know she has the manners of a princess so it doesn’t count but that doesn’t mean that I can’t fall in love with someone like that who wants to marry me. I hate these balls. Every man I meet is either handsome and snobbish or kind and boring.”

“You could do worse than marry someone boring,” Bella said. 

“Oh, come on, Bella,” murmured Alexander, slipping his arms around her waist. “Maybe we’re being a bit harsh on her.”

“Um, how’s Rhiannon going to meet anyone like my Ash anyway?” asked Hans. “She’s never out of the castle for long enough.”

Rhiannon laughed, folding her arms. “It may interest you to know that I think I might have met someone like that, thank you very much, Hans. M. Prince!”

Talia looked up at her. “Really? In the space of a few hours?”

“Well, perhaps,” smiled Rhiannon, feeling smug. “At least, when I was out, I happened to pass by a castle and there was a young man there who told me I have a beautiful singing voice. He was very nice. Charming, not in a sleezy, obvious way.”

“Why are you looking at me when you say that?” asked Hans. Everyone laughed. 

“Seriously,” smiled Rhiannon. “He could be the one.”

“Who was he?” asked Talia, sitting up on her cushion. “A duke? A lord? A prince?”

“Well...actually...he was a servant.”

“Well done!” Hans patted her. “Welcome to the bandwagon!”

“Oh, shut up!” she replied, nudging him. It was alright, though; she wasn’t in trouble anymore. “Anyway, now, I’m going to give Starbuck a rub down; and nothing any of you can say is going to stop me.”

Merrily, she skipped out of the room and down to Starbuck’s stall. She thought then long and hard about what she had told her parents. Was Gwyn a man she could probably bring herself to love? Perhaps, she mused as she began to rub down and brush Starbuck, perhaps if she spent more time with him, perhaps she could.

Her dress for that evening was lime green, with a long skirt and sea green over-sleeves slit at the elbows to reveal lime green under-sleeves and a sea green over-skirt with translucent green slippers on her feet and a flowing ribbon belt around her waist. She wore, as was custom at a royal ball, her crown and a silver pendant with an emerald in the middle. 

“You look lovely,” smiled Talia. She was dressed in lilac with a large flowing skirt and translucent short lilac sleeves slit up the sides and lilac ballet slippers on her feet. Her coffee-brown hair was tamed back into a neat bun and she grinned as she took her sister’s hand. “Come on, at least just try to find one royal person here who catches your interest.”

“Fine,” Rhiannon sighed, “for you and the others, I’ll try but if I can’t, I’m going back to Gwyn’s castle first thing in the morning and proposing to him.”

Talia laughed “Rhiannon!”

“That one was a joke! You take things far too seriously, Talia!”

Ashenputtal met them downstairs. Rhiannon liked Ashenputtal; she was a lovely woman and she honestly didn’t think that Hans could have found himself a better bride. She wore a dress with a red bodice and wide skirt, a yellow belt and yellow off-the-shoulder straps. Her naturally long wavy hair was down. She looked gorgeous. “Do you think you’ll find the man of your dreams tonight, Rhiannon?” she asked, linking arms with her sister-in-law.

Rhiannon grinned. “For all you know, I may have already.”

All the night long, her thoughts were of Gwyn; even when some king named Lucius kept asking her to dance; and she felt she had to accept out of duty and loyalty to her parents. But she kept expecting Gwyn to just suddenly pop up out of nowhere and ask her to dance. It never happened but she found herself wishing that it would...


	3. Hearts On Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once upon a time there was a young prince born with skin white as snow. But his handsome stepfather grew jealous of the youth's looks and decided to have him secretly killed. One the run, the prince falls in with some kind-hearted dwarfettes but will he get back to the woman he loves?

Gwyn never usually tended to ask his stepfather for anything. He usually tried his best to make do with his lot in life, but after his conversation with Rhiannon, he decided that it was about time he became a little more assertive. After all, he was the heir to the throne after his stepfather died. At any rate, he was still nervous as he approached his stepfather’s chair with the dinner tray. 

“Just put it down there, and don’t spill,” snapped Lucius, eyes on the paper he was reading. Gwyn put it down with a steady hand. Lucius raised an eyebrow. “You’re learning.”

“Stepfather,” Gwyn began, nervously. 

“What is it now?” sighed Lucius, irritated. 

“This party you’ve been invited to tonight...”

“What of it?”

Gwyn faltered. Lucius scowled at him. “Speak up, boy!”

“I was wondering whether I might be allowed to come too,” Gwyn blurted. 

“You?!” Lucius stared at him and then chuckled cruelly, as if the idea was ridiculous and unheard of. “You were not invited; don’t be so foolish!”

“But your invitation said “And guest,” Gwyn persisted. “So, I thought that maybe-”

“Come here.” Lucius held out a hand to him. Gwyn frowned. Never had his stepfather extended the hand of friendship towards him before. He stepped up to the chair and Lucius seized the front of his tunic and brought his beautiful, youthful face down close to his own cruel features. “Listen to me, boy!” Lucius hissed. “You are a servant! You think yourself above this life I have provided for you? Well?” He gave Gwyn a little shake. 

Gwyn struggled, painfully, since his stepfather had also grabbed a handful of skin as well as tunic when he had seized hold of him. “I’m the prince,” he exclaimed, defiantly. “You married my mother, the Queen; I am the rightful heir to the throne.” 

Lucius gave him another shake. “Not as long as I sit upon it! May I remind you that should I marry and produce children of my own, they will take the throne when I am gone, not you!”

“You can’t do that!” cried Gwyn, still struggling to free himself. “You can’t deny me my birthright!”

Lucius gave him a shove, releasing him at the same time. Gwyn stumbled backwards, tripped over the rug and landed on his back. Winded he looked up in time to see Lucius pressing the tip of a sword to his chest. He didn’t dare move for fear of accidently impaling himself. “It’s a pity that good servants are so hard to find these days,” sneered Lucius. “Otherwise I would run you through right here and now!”

Gwyn stared at the blade, recognising it at once. “That-that’s my father’s sword! How dare you touch it? Take your hands off it immediately; it’s all I have left of him!”

“Do not push me, boy!” snapped Lucius, pressing the tip of the blade closer to Gwyn’s chest. “You have already angered me enough today! It would be so deliciously easy to kill you right now!”

“What do you mean?” stammered Gwyn. “I don’t know what you mean? What have I done?”

“I saw you letting that girl in at the back gate today; and how many others do you sneak into the palace when I’m not looking, hm? When you should be working?”

“None!” Gwyn protested. “Well, one, but just her; no one else! I just wanted to talk to someone...and she was beautiful...”

Lucius glared at him. “Planning to marry her, are we? Hoping to set our own seedlings on the throne, are we?”

“No!” Gwyn exclaimed. “No! I promise you!” There was only one way out of this, he knew. When his stepfather threatened to kill him, and this wasn’t the first time, oh, no, more likely the twelfth hundred time, flattery, humiliation and grovelling submission was his only chance. “I have no intention of throwing you off the throne, Stepfather,” he said, reciting the speech he had come to memorise so long ago after so often repeating it. “I apologise profoundly. I made a mistake. I didn’t mean to anger you. Perhaps you had better run me through.”

“Oh, stop your grovelling,” snapped Lucius, irritated, drawing back the sword and sheathing it. “You know how I hate your pathetic voice grovelling at me all the time. Get up!” he snapped as Gwyn lay waiting to be commanded to his feet. “Must you be so impertinent all the time?”

Gwyn got to his feet. “I apologise,” he said again, brushing down his clothes. 

“Don’t brush your filth all over this floor!” snapped Lucius. “And as for this ridiculous notion about accompanying me to the party, forget it! You are not permitted to come; neither as my guest nor as my servant!”

Gwyn bowed his head. “I understand, Stepfather.”

“And then there’s that girl; who was she?”

“I don’t know,” Gwyn stammered. “I mean, that is, she said she was a lady’s maid but she was too beautiful for that...”

“You’ve no time to waste mooning over pretty girls!” snapped Lucius. “Go and clean the parlour and sweep the dust from the rugs in the top corridor!”

“But I did all that this morning-!” began Gwyn.

“Don’t argue with me! Just do it!” snapped Lucius. “And then you can lay out my clothes for tonight!”

“Yes, Stepfather,” Gwyn replied, meekly. He left the room. It was no good. You couldn’t argue with a man like Lucius and expect to win, you just couldn’t. 

Once alone in the room, Lucius went to the enormous mirror in the corner of the room. “Magic Mirror on the wall, who is the most handsome ruler of all?”

The mirror flickered into life and a ghostly face spoke from it with a woman’s voice. “Thou art handsome, thou art grand, thou art the most distinguished man in all the land.”

“I know,” smirked Lucius, tucking into his meal. A very grand meal it was too; the finest food in all the land fresh from the larders. Only Lucius dealt with the common market tradesmen each morning; not wanting any of them to have any contact with his stepson. After all, if the boy did fall in love and produce an heir, what then? Tonight Lucius knew he had to find some maid to marry and thus secure his position as King. 

Meanwhile, Gwyn thought of his own pitiful meal down in the kitchens of the palace; a hunk of drying bread, a lump of cheese and an apple. He did love apples; and in the palace gardens grew the freshest, most tasty apples in all the land. His mother had been fond of apples too and thus planted those trees that bore the sweet fruit. That was one luxury that Lucius had decided to grant him; after all, to Lucius’ mind, they were “just apples, nothing important.” To Gwyn, however, they felt like his mothers way of telling him that he was still loved; that the apples were proof that his mother, and his father too, whom he had never known, were watching over him. 

Thinking about the red of the apples reminded him of Rhiannon; the colour of her hair. He wondered what she would be doing right now; perhaps he dreamed as he set about his work, she was brushing her mistress’s hair, or laying out her clothes for a party similar to the one his uncle was attending tonight. 

Little did Gwyn suspect that, not only was Rhiannon a princess, but that she would be at that party that Lucius had been invited to; given that it was happening in her own castle. Lucius, on the other hand, knew that King Alexander and Queen Bella had a daughter who was young, fair and eligible for marriage and this was his exact reason for going to the party in the first place; to secure her as his wife.

“You are most welcome here, Lucius,” said Alexander, grandly, shaking him firmly by the hand. “You remember my wife, Bella?”

“Of course,” replied Lucius, bowing courteously to the Queen.

Bella smiled. “And this is our youngest daughter, Rhiannon; this is King Lucius of the neighbouring kingdom.”

“How do you do?” Rhiannon replied, politely, dropping a curtsey. Lucius blanched. It was the same girl; that “lady’s maid” that Gwyn was now swooning over. He managed to smile at her, however. “Pleased to meet you at last, young lady,” he said, kissing her hand. She wrinkled her nose but returned his smile. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

He was sure he had her now. How could any woman resist his handsomeness and charms? 

Her head, however, was too full of Gwyn to pay much attention to him. “That’s nice,” she replied, lamely, brushing down her skirts. That was when Hans came up to introduce himself and Lucius lost Rhiannon in a sea of people. She drifted aimlessly out into the garden when she saw him approaching after he eventually spotted her over by the window. She knew exactly why he was here and she wasn’t in the slightest bit interested in him. Why should she be? He was old enough to be her father and there was something cruel about his face that she did not trust. 

Lucius, for his part, couldn’t quite understand why she seemed so disillusioned by him. Perhaps she hadn’t spent enough time with him to appreciate his charms, yes, that was it. He followed her out into the garden. Rhiannon plucked a red rose off the nearest bush, with every intention of feeding it to Starbuck. It was just as well that roses weren’t poisonous for horses, since he did love to eat them so much. He of course, was back in his stable and she badly wished she could just get him out, tack him up and set out into the night for a ride. If she did that, however, she’d be in a heap of trouble, and she had had enough of that for one day. 

“Roses,” said Lucius, flirtatiously from behind her, causing her to turn to face him, “are said to be the most romantic flowers of all.”

“They are indeed, sir,” she replied, coolly. For a sixteen year old, she was very good at dry wit. Her father always said she got that from her mother. “Would that I had a man to give one too, instead of a horse, or indeed, one to give one back to me.”

“Well, I’m sure I can help there,” he replied, plucking a rose deftly off the bush and holding it out to her.

She took a step backwards. “Sir, I’m afraid I cannot accept.”

“Oh, come now,” he replied, slyly slinking up to her. “There’s no need to be coy.”

“I am not being coy, sir,” she insisted, backing away. “To accept that rose would be to give you false hope and thus lead you to believe that I could ever have any kind of romantic feelings for you; and that would be wicked off me, so, no, sir, keep your rose.”

He stared at her, flabbergasted. “And why, may I ask, can you not accept it?”

“Because I think that my heart belongs to another.”

It was true, then. She was in love with the boy.

“Excuse me,” Rhiannon finished, stepping delicately around him. “I have a horse to feed this to.”

When she had gone, Lucius curled his fist around the rose, ignoring the pain brought on by the thorns as he crushed the thing to nothingness in his hand. She hadn’t even looked at him in the way that women did when they admitted that whilst he might not be their type, he was handsome and very charming. His heart lurched. The boy loved her. She loved the boy. And if he proposed to her, which he would do, Lucius was sure of it, they would have children and they would take away his throne.

“Am I no longer as handsome as I once was?” he wondered. 

The magic mirror held the answer for him that very evening when he got in. “Magic Mirror on the wall, who is the most handsome ruler of all?”

“Gwyn art handsome, Gwyn art grand, Gwyn art the most distinguished man in all the land.”


	4. The Huntress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once upon a time there was a young prince born with skin white as snow. But his handsome stepfather grew jealous of the youth's looks and decided to have him secretly killed. One the run, the prince falls in with some kind-hearted dwarfettes but will he get back to the woman he loves?

It was clear what he had to do. Clear as crystal. He had to have Gwyn conveniently disposed of. The problem was that Lucius didn’t fancy the idea of getting his own hands dirty. He had to find someone else to do it.

The question was, whom? After all, he had long since dismissed all the servants in order for the young prince to learn his place in the castle and certainly no friend of his would willingly kill the boy. Rather, they might have him, Lucius, imprisoned and then Gwyn would assume the throne anyway. He needed to find someone who lived outside the law, someone who would not be afraid to kill. 

Then suddenly he had a brainwave. Of course, the mirror could find such a person for him. 

“Magic Mirror, play your part, I need a hunter with an ice cold heart.”

The mirror reflection swam before him, like ripples on the water and then Lucius found himself looking at an image of the deepest, darkest part of the forest. A very pretty little doe grazed there, unaware that she was being watched. Presently, a soft click as someone trod on a twig caused the doe to look up, but before she could make a move to run, an arrow shot through the air and embedded itself into her heart. She fell, red blood blossoming in a stream to the forest floor as her assassin stepped forwards. 

“Her?” Lucius sneered. She looked the part enough, he had to admit; dressed in brown riding britches, long brown boots with pointed toes, a white gypsy blouse with short, off-the-shoulder sleeves and brown corset over it. She was wrapped in a red cloak and wore leather arm guards. At her side, from her belt, hung a large hunting knife, a leather strap for sharpening it on and a flask made from animal horn. Over her back was slung a quiver full of arrows, and in her hands she carried the bow with which she had taken away the doe’s life. As Lucius watched, she strode up to the great beast, whipped out the arrow, causing a spurt of blood to narrowly miss her boots, and then wiped it, with a look of distain, on the grass. Above her, a raven cawed, irritatingly. Looking up, she nocked another arrow, drew it back and fired upwards. In mid-caw, the raven fell dead at her feet. She removed the arrow with the same unfeeling look in her eyes, and then bent down beside the doe. She took knife and began to hack at the body. 

Lucius had seen enough and he waved a hand at the mirror, causing the image to fade. “She’s perfect. I must have her brought here.”

Sweeping up his cloak, Lucius left the castle. Gwyn was out in the garden, he wouldn’t notice he was gone for a while. Lucius made his way to the forest. The place was spooky but he had a lot of bottle and didn’t believe in ghosts. 

The huntress wasn’t hard to find. She regarded him with a wary eye as he approached and then went back to hacking up the deer. “Yes?” she said, in a cold tone.

“Pardon me, my lady,” Luicius began, “but I have been observing you from afar...”

She laughed. “Well, that’s one I’ve heard before! Pity! I was hoping for something more original!”

“You misunderstand me,” Lucius said. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am King Lucius and I need to have someone disposed of.”

She looked up. “You wish to hire me?”

“You would be well paid,” he assured her. 

She scoffed. “I live in a mud hut in the forest. This place provides me with food, shelter, everything I need. What use have I for money?”

“Then what? What might I offer you as a token of my gratitude for this small service?”

The huntress pursed her lips. “Salt.”

“Salt?”

“I said the forest provides me with food, but meat here is very bland. Salt would suffice as payment.”

“Very well,” Lucius smirked. “Do this for me and I will pay you in two pillars of salt.”

“Then we have a deal.” She straightened up. “Lilith Dee at your service, sire. Whom do you wish me to dispose of?”

“My stepson.”

“The prince?”

“He has become somewhat rebellious of late,” Lucius explained. “Something evil is in his heart. He is trying to steal the woman I wish to marry.”

Lilith nodded. “Very well, but it must be done carefully.”

“I know, and I have a plan. Now listen carefully...”

So it was arranged that the very next day, the deed would be carried out. In the courtyard, Gwyn swept the floor and trimmed the rosebushes and scrubbed the steps, but all the while he was keeping an eye out for Rhiannon. She had, after all, promised to meet him again that very day, and he couldn’t wait to see her again. All the previous night his thoughts had been of her. There was so much he wanted to ask her about herself; her history, her family, what she liked, what she didn’t like, everything. 

“Gwyn! Come here!”

“Yes, Stepfather,” Gwyn muttered, setting down his scrubbing brush, brushing down his knees and throwing a last lingering look at the gate before doing as he was bid. Inside, his stepfather was standing with a woman Gwyn had never seen before in his life. She had dark red hair and brown eyes and looked like a huntress. 

“I want you to accompany my guest home,” Lucius told him.

“Accompany her home?” Gwyn stammered, confused. 

“She has no servants to accompany her through the darkest part of the forest,” Lucius replied, raising an eyebrow at him. 

“But I haven’t finished-!”

“Whatever you were planning on doing can wait until you get back,” Lucius replied, testily. 

Gwyn swallowed hard and nodded. What choice did he have? He turned and bowed to Lilith. “Shall I saddle your steed, my lady?”

“I walked,” she told him, shortly, nodding her farewell to Lucius. The two pillars of salt he had promised were on the table, ready for the exchange. When she had killed the boy, she was to give Lucius his heart in return for the salt. Lucius kissed her hand and Lilith turned and led Gwyn out of the castle. She took such great strides that Gwyn had to jog to keep up with her. 

“So, how long have you known my stepfather?” he asked, conversationally. 

“I had the pleasure of making his acquaintance quite recently,” Lilith replied, bluntly. 

Her retort was so sharp that Gwyn remained silent as they made their way to the outskirts of the forest. A hare hopped merrily along, sniffing at some wild garlic, whilst a prowling fox behind stalked it. At once, Gwyn picked up a rock and threw it at the fox. It missed, thankfully, but both animals were so startled by the sudden movement that they both leapt off in opposite directions. 

“Why did you do that?” Lilith asked, turning her dark eyes on him. 

Gwyn shrugged. “I like hares. They’re wise.”

Lilith regarded him. From what she had seen of him so far, the boy didn’t look rebellious, not like Lucius had described him. He seemed...dreamy and innocent. 

“Be strong,” she told herself, as they entered the thick of the forest, “It’s probably just an act.”

Gwyn glanced nervously around the forest. It was, he realised suddenly, the first time he had ever been allowed outside the palace. What was his stepfather up to now? Maybe he was hoping he’d get lost in here? The place was dimly lit, cold and something about it terrified him. Nevertheless, he did his best to seem unafraid. “How far is it to your home, my lady?”

“Not far.”

He noticed she wrapped her cloak around her body a little more tightly; to conceal the fact that she was reaching for her hunting knife. However, he misinterpreted in. “Are you cold, my lady? Here, take my cloak.”

She stared at him. “No. No, thank you, I’m fine. Really.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Gwyn nodded and looked nervously around again. While his head was turned, Lilith stopped where she was, her knife in her hand. “This is far enough.”

“You live near here?” Gwyn asked, not seeing her advance on him. He turned in time to see her right behind him with the knife raised above her head. With a yelp of fear, he backed away, tripped over a fallen log and landed hard on his back. Lilith dropped on top of him, pinning him down with one hand. 

“Wait!” Gwyn shouted. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I have orders to!”

Gwyn threw his hands over his face, waiting for the searing blow of the knife to cut into him. But Lilith’s hand faltered and then she dropped the knife into the earth inches from his shoulder and scrabbled away from him. “I can’t do it.”

Gwyn looked up at her, confused. “What?”

“I can’t do it,” she whispered. “I thought I could but I can’t.”

Gwyn pushed himself up on his elbows. “Why not?”

“I don’t know. I suppose...killing animals is one thing, but you...you’re so innocent and gentle and dreamy...not a bit like your stepfather said.”

Now it all made sense. “Lucius wanted you to kill me?”

She nodded and covered her face with her hands. “All for two pillars of salt; but I can’t! Not now I see you as you really are!”

Gwyn got to his feet. “If he wants me dead...if I were to disappear...”

She looked up, catching onto what he was saying. “Yes! Yes! Go! Leave right now! I am to bring him your heart, but there’s no way he’d be able to tell your heart from a wild boar’s! I’ll see it done! Go now, and never return!”

“Go where?”

“Into the forest! You’ll be safe there! Go! Now!”

Gwyn took to his heels and fled. Brambles snagged at his already ripped clothes and tree roots tried to trip him up but he ran on. This forest was like a labyrinth, hard to navigate. Bats flew towards hm suddenly in a cluster, shrieking and flapping. Gwyn ducked his head and ran onwards. The bark of a nearby fox startled him so much that he tripped and fell into a small stream running through the forest. Leaping over this, he ran onwards until finally, mud-stained and bruised, he collapsed into the middle of a forest clearing. Exhausted, scared and worried, he fainted where he was.

Now, not too far away from this clearing, there sat a pretty little thatched cottage, a little like a doll’s house. This was the home of the Seven Dwarfettes; seven middle aged sisters named Flora, Dora, Nora, Maura, Laura, Cora and Aurora. They were fairly well off since they lived near a diamond mine and every day they went out to mine the diamonds, or at least four of them did, in shifts, whilst two went out collecting firewood or berries or water or anything else they needed from the forest and the other stayed behind to keep house. Right now, Maura and Flora were in the process of berry picking when Maura stumbled across the young prince in the clearing. After giving him a nudge with her toe and asserting that he was still alive, she turned and called to her sister. 

“Flora! Bring the cart! You won’t believe what I’ve found!”

Meanwhile, Lilith had very little trouble finding a wild boar and securing its heart for her own. Smearing herself in its blood, she made her way back to the castle. 

“Well?” Lucius eyed her clothing. “I take it the deed is done?”

“I have his heart here,” she replied, blandly, holding it out to him. “He put up quite a struggle but in the end, I gained the upper hand.”

“Excellent!” Lucius placed the heart in a lead casket, closed the lid and turned to her. “You have earned your prize indeed, Madame Huntress!”


	5. The Dwarfettes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once upon a time there was a young prince born with skin white as snow. But his handsome stepfather grew jealous of the youth's looks and decided to have him secretly killed. One the run, the prince falls in with some kind-hearted dwarfettes but will he get back to the woman he loves?

Gwyn raised his head. The last thing he could remember was running through the forest and now here he was waking up to the aroma of fresh vegetable soup.

He opened his eyes and blinked. He was in some kind of cottage with a thatched roof, lying upon a sofa, covered by a woollen blanket. In front of a large fire, a short woman with short brown curls, dressed in a red dress with a puffy skirt, a dark brown cummerbund, a cream apron, red hat and clogs, stirred the soup in the pot. Presently she turned to him and smiled, kindly. 

“Good, you’re awake. You look like you had a rough day of it.”

“Sorry?” Gwyn asked, rubbing his head. 

“Well, your clothes were all torn and tattered when we found you lying in the forest, sweetie. Well, I say “we;” it was really my sister Maura who found you.” The woman patted her apron. “I’m Flora.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” stammered Gwyn. “I’m...”

“Ah, Maura, there you are! Look who’s awake!”

Gwyn turned his head to see another short woman shuffle into the kitchen/living room/dining room. She looked like her sister but she was dressed in green. “Hello, there,” she smiled at Gwyn. “Feeling better now?”

“Yes, a little, thank you,” he replied, politely. 

“Here you are, ducks,” said Flora, handing him a bowl of steaming hot soup and a wooden spoon. “You look like you need feeding up.”

Gwyn took the bowl and spoon with a word of thanks and tried the soup. It was delicious, and he couldn’t remember ever eating better food. The door opened and four more women trotted into the room, carrying large sacks of, Gwyn almost choked on the soup, diamonds!

“Hello, who’s this?” asked the woman in blue. 

“This, Laura, is our young guest. I found him in the woods, lost,” replied Maura. “These are our sisters, Laura, Nora,” the woman in orange bobbed a curtsey, “Dora,” the woman in yellow nodded her head, “and Cora.” The woman in purple waved. 

“It’s nice to meet you all,” said Gwyn. 

“Now where is Aurora?” tutted Nora. 

“Washing,” replied Flora. Right on cue, the woman who had to be Aurora came into the room, dressed in pink and carrying a large basket of freshly washed clothes. She grinned at Gwyn. “Hello, glad to see you’re up at last. I’m Aurora.”

“How many of you are there?” Gwyn asked, amazed that so many women could all fit under one roof. 

“Just the seven of us,” replied Maura, tossing her head. 

“People call us the Dwarfettes,” said Flora. “But I believe that you were about to tell us your name, lad.”

Gwyn swallowed hard. “I’m Gwyn.”

At this they all gasped. “The prince?” exclaimed Aurora, almost dropping her basket in amazement.

“Yes.”

“Well, this is an honour,” said Flora. “Welcome to our humble little abode; granted you’re used to much grander settings.”

“Not really,” Gwyn admitted, finishing his soup. “You see, my stepfather kept me as his personal slave. I haven’t felt like royalty in years.” He handed back the now empty bowl and spoon. “Thank you, that was delicious.”

“But what were you doing so far out in the woods, your highness?” asked Cora.

“Please, it’s just Gwyn. I was out there because, well, my stepfather wants to kill me.”

They all gasped again, this time in outrage. “Oh, you poor dear!” exclaimed Dora, patting his hand. 

Gwyn nodded. “He sent a woman to kill me but she told me to run and well, here I am, basically.”

“Well, then, you must stay here with us,” Flora told him. 

“Oh, no, thank you, but really, I’ve taken up far too much of your hospitality,” Gwyn insisted, getting to his feet.

“Nonsense!” snapped Laura. “Where would you go? And what kind of women would we be if we let you be killed by your stepfather, lad? No, no, you must stay here with us, in safety. We’ll take care of you.”

“Well, that’s very kind of you,” Gwyn smiled, secretly relieved to find people who wanted to help him, “and I’ll try not to be a burden. Thank you.”

“No trouble at all,” replied Maura. “We have a guest bedroom upstairs which you’re welcome to. Now, we need to fix your clothes, and you look like you could do with a nice, hot bath.”

Gwyn didn’t argue. He got the feeling that even if he did, Laura would find some way of beating him in that argument. Instead, he allowed Maura to lead him into the back washroom and show him where everything was before running a hot bath for him. She pointedly turned her back to allow him some privacy as Gwyn stripped off his clothes and clambered into the tub. Maura immedietly pounced on his clothing and skipped off into the main room. 

Gwyn lay back in the hot water. It felt wonderful. Back at the castle, he had only ever been allowed to wash himself beneath a pump of ice cold water, even in winter. Now he lay in water that was slowly tinting his naturally snow-white skin with a healthy pink colour. He allowed the moment to last until the water began to feel only just lukewarm and then washed himself. 

Dora came into the room just as he was wrapping himself in a towel. “I’m afraid we don’t have much in the way of boy’s clothes that would fit you,” she said, apologetically. “But I have managed in the space of fifteen minutes to whip up a robe from a couple of spare blankets that ought to fit just right.” 

She held out the patched blue and red robe. Gwyn took it with a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

“It’s not a problem,” she replied, airily. “We’ll patch your clothes for tonight and then tomorrow we’ll go to the market and find you something else to wear.”

Without waiting for a word of thanks or protest, she shuffled off. Gwyn tried on the robe and tied it about his waist with the belt she had also made for it. It was a perfect fit. Happily, he made his way back into the main room where he found the Dwarfettes engaged in sorting through the diamonds. “Where exactly did you get those?” he asked, hoping it didn’t sound like some sort of accusation.

“We work in a nearby diamond mine,” explained Nora. “We can buy things at market; people pay up all sorts for gems.”

Gwyn nodded. “I can imagine.”

Flora put on her spectacles and squinted at one of the diamonds. “This one’s pretty flawed, worthless, really.”

“This one’s fake,” reported Cora, tapping one with a tiny hammer. 

“How can you tell?” asked Gwyn. 

“Listen to the difference.” She tapped the diamond with the hammer and it made a strange clunking noise. “Now this one is real,” she said, tapping another diamond which made a tinkling sound, like water.

“Always best to check,” Laura grunted. “You never know what you might get down there. Don’t want to turn up on market day with a pocketful of fake diamonds.”

Gwyn watched them, fascinated. They were clearly very clever and hard-working women, and yet at the same time very kind and caring. They teased each other, he observed, even insulted each other, but it wielded nothing more than a friendly flap with a teatowel in response. All in all, they got on well. Family, he thought, trying to remember his own, lost to time. 

Aurora and Maura prepared dinner; a leg of mutton with fresh potatoes, peas, cabbage, carrots and gravy, and some home brewed mead. Gwyn ate every single bite, unable to remember when he had last eaten such good food. Then, when they were all done, Aurora produced a large fruit cake, freshly iced with cherries on the top and insisted on cutting a large slice for their honoured guest. 

“We’ll have you at a more healthy weight by the end of the week, Gwyn,” Laura laughed. “That’s a promise! You’re such a skinny little mite!”

“Ignore her,” tutted Flora. “We all do.”

Gwyn gave a tired smile but before he could comment, he yawned. 

“You need to sleep,” Dora scolded him, in a fond tone. “Come on, now, up to bed with you.”

Gwyn felt too tired to protest, so he pushed back his chair, thanked his hosts for the meal and followed Dora upstairs to the guest room. It was a cosy little place with a large comfortable bed, piled with a straw mattress, a lumpy pillow and several blankets, a wooden chair and writing desk , a wardrobe, a bookcase filled with books and a large trunk at the foot of the bed. “If you need more blankets, they’re in the trunk,” smiled Dora.

His clothes were neatly folded up on his pillow, all stitched up, good as new. Gwyn turned to her. “Thank you. Thank you for all of this. I’ll help you in any way I can, around the house I mean, in return. Thank you.”

“Bless you, lad!” Dora replied, patting his hand. “You’re here; you’re like family. Sleep well, now, oh, and help yourself to a book if you can’t sleep. I find that reading helps me sleep.”

She bustled out of the room. Gwyn smiled and pulled on his clothes, marvelling at the job they had done with their sewing. No one would have ever guessed that this morning his clothes were already frayed and tattered; now they looked almost good as new. Exhausted, he collapsed into the soft warmth of the bed and fell asleep. 

A little while later, he sat up as a thought swam into his mind. Rhiannon. She didn’t know where he was; and being here now, he didn’t know how to find her. 

Maybe, he thought, lying back in bed, maybe she’ll find me.


	6. Blood from a Rose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once upon a time there was a young prince born with skin white as snow. But his handsome stepfather grew jealous of the youth's looks and decided to have him secretly killed. One the run, the prince falls in with some kind-hearted dwarfettes but will he get back to the woman he loves?

Whilst Gwyn had made his journey from servant/prince to attempted murder victim to lost boy to honoured guest at the Dwarfettes’ cottage, Rhiannon had made a journey of her own. Having gone to bed the previous evening with nothing but Gwyn on her mind, she woke that morning feeling refreshed and eager to be out in the open fresh air. 

Brighton shook his head as she tacked up Starbuck herself. “Your parents won’t like it if you do this, miss.”

“I’ll be perfectly fine, Brighton,” she reassured him. “I can handle my parents after all. Besides, I won’t go far.” She patted Starbuck’s neck and hoisted herself up into the saddle. “Look, if you’re so worried, you can always come with me.”

“No fear!” Brighton replied, jumping. “You may be alright with being in your parents’ bad books, but I’m not!”

“And quite right too, Brighton!” she teased, before tugging on Starbuck’s reins. “Come on, you,” she said, and Starbuck trotted out of the castle. “See you later!” Rhiannon called over her shoulder to Brighton. 

“Aye,” Brighton muttered, running a worried hand through his hair. “I just hope you know what you’re doing, miss.”

Rhiannon was in a cheerful mood, even a singworthy mood. Tunes from her childhood came back to her and she sang them as she rode along, not caring who might be able to hear her. 

“And they all lived together in a little crooked house,” she finished as they finally reached the castle. She leapt lightly from Starbuck’s back and stepped up to the gate. There was no sign of Gwyn. Strange, she thought; he had promised to be here. Maybe he was just up late. Well, she thought to herself, no hurry. He’ll come when he’s ready. 

However, about an hour or so later, Rhiannon was beginning to worry. What if Gwyn was ill? What if both he and his employer were ill? Well, it wasn’t ladylike to enter a home uninvited, but this could be an emergency. Rhiannon fiddled with the catch on the gate until it finally clicked open and made her way into the courtyard. Starbuck, who never wandered far from his mistress, followed. Rhiannon looked around. “Gwyn?”

There was no reply. Her shoes echoed throughout the empty courtyard as she looked around. She swallowed, hard. “Gwyn, are you here?”

“Well, well, well.” Rhiannon jumped and turned around, her heart lurching. 

“King Lucius!” she exclaimed, in surprise. “Well! I had no idea this was your castle!” She bowed. “I apologise for intruding like this! It’s just that, well...”

“You couldn’t wait a second longer to see me,” he teased. 

Rhiannon blushed. “No, actually, sir, I was hoping to enquire about a young man I met here yesterday. I believe he’s a servant of yours. His name’s Gwyn.”

“Ah, yes!” Lucius shook his head. “Tragic business, that. The poor boy.”

“Tragic?” Rhiannon repeated, her heart hammering in her chest. “What do you mean?”

“Come inside, please,” Lucius insisted, guiding her to the castle door. “We can take tea.”

Rhiannon followed him inside and allowed him to bring her a pot of tea. “So, will you tell me what you mean now, sir?” she asked. “What tragic business do you refer to?”

“Well, young Gwyn. You know, I blame myself. I should never have sent him into the forest.”

“The forest? What do you mean?”

“Well,” here Lucius pinched the bridge of his nose as if trying to ward off tears, “it all began yesterday afternoon. I sent him, Gwyn, to the forest to hunt some pheasants for tea. “Don’t stray too far inside it,” I told him. “Sometimes people go into that forest and don’t come out again.” Well, it got rather late and he wasn’t back yet, so I set off to look for him.”

Rhiannon stared at him, panic gripping her. “What? What happened?” Automatically, and to Lucius’ delight, she gripped his hand. “Please tell me!”

He sighed. “Well, I found him. On the outskirts of the forest. He’d been attacked by, well, goodness knows how many people. I have heard rumours of dangerous hunter types in the woods before, but I thought that’s all they were, rumours. I did all that I could but...the boy died.”

Rhiannon dropped his hand. “No,” she whispered, and then hastening to her feet. “NO!”

“I’m afraid so.” Lucius sighed. “I’m going to miss that boy.”

“I can’t believe it,” Rhiannon whispered, sinking back into her seat. She covered her mouth with her hands. “I can’t believe he’s...”

Even as she said it, a vision of Gwyn swam into her mind. What had he said to her yesterday? That he felt trapped here? And that he’d be in trouble for leaving the castle? That would imply that King Lucius never allowed him to step outside the castle walls. And yet here he was claiming that Gwyn had been allowed outside and been killed. 

She had never liked this man, right from the off, why should she trust him now? Her sadness quickly turned to stubbornness. “I don’t believe you.”

Lucius blinked at her. “What? What do you mean?”

“I don’t believe what you’re telling me. Why should I? Have you any evidence?”

Lucius scowled and got to his feet. “Evidence? The boy is dead, I tell you! What? You doubt my word?”

“Indeed, sir, I do! Gwyn claimed you wouldn’t let him outside the castle walls, so why the sudden change of heart?”

“Heart?” Lucius snorted, smirked and relaxed. “Now thereby hangs a tale. You want proof that he’s dead? Fine!”

He swept the lead casket from the top of the fireplace and shoved it under her nose. Rhiannon, watching him with a wary eye, opened it. Seeing what was inside, she leapt to her feet with a startled cry of “Oh!”

“There! What did I tell you?” Lucius sneered in triumph.

“Why are you showing me a wild boar’s heart in a box, sir?”

Lucius blanched. “What?”

“That’s the heart of a wild boar.” Rhiannon pointed to the heart. “I’ve seen our cooks cutting open wild boar to cook them often enough; I know what a boar’s heart looks like.” She looked at him. “Why are you showing me this?”

Lucius snarled and swept up the heart in one hand. “The huntress betrayed me!”

He threw the heart into the fire. He was mad, Rhiannon realised, mad. She started for the door but he seized her arm. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“As far away from you as possible!” she exclaimed. 

“Oh, no, you’re not!” He leered at her. “I saw the boy mooning over you! He won’t be the one to have you!”

“I belong to no man!” snapped Rhiannon, and she seized the casket and lashed out at him with it. She caught him a blow one the side of the head that sent him flying over the table, releasing his grip on her. Dropping the casket, Rhiannon fled into the courtyard, leapt aboard Starbuck and galloped through the gate before Lucius even had time to blink. About a mile or so away from the castle, she stopped and slide from Starbuck’s back and onto the grass. 

She was slowly beginning to piece it all together. Lucius wanted to marry her and he knew about her meeting with Gwyn, and suspected that Gwyn possibly had feelings for her. So, he had tried to have him killed, but clearly then Gwyn must have escaped if the huntress had brought back a boar’s heart instead of Gwyn’s.

So, Gwyn was still alive, she realised, but where was he?

She had to find out. She had to find him. Feeling her anger at Lucius for trying to trick her, and for trying to kill the man she was sure she was in love with, and her determination to find him fill her, she gripped the rose bush next to her until the thorns brought blood to the hand. 

“I swear by my own blood,” she vowed, as Starbuck tossed his head and snorted beside her, “I will find you, Gwyn. I will not rest until I find you.”

Meanwhile, in the castle, Lucius was recovering from the wound Rhiannon had inflicted upon him. His initial shock at her attack now turned to anger at the realisation that Gwyn was still alive. The huntress had tricked him. 

“Magic Mirror on the wall, show me the most handsome ruler of all!” he demanded.

The mirror image swam before his eyes, and he saw Gwyn collapsing on the floor of the clearing in the forest. From the rising of his diaphragm, Lucius noted, he must be very much alive. With a growl, he swept the teapot off the table, ignoring the tinkling of broken china. 

“I will see that boy dead or my name isn’t Lucius!” he shouted, stamping from the room. All those magic books left to him by his sorceress parents must now come in handy for something...


	7. Love Will Conquer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once upon a time there was a young prince born with skin white as snow. But his handsome stepfather grew jealous of the youth's looks and decided to have him secretly killed. One the run, the prince falls in with some kind-hearted dwarfettes but will he get back to the woman he loves?

When Gwyn woke up the next morning, it took him a while to remember where he was. The last time he had slept in a bed this comfortable was when his mother was still alive. He lay still for a few minutes, enjoying the warmth and then, with a stretch, got to his feet. The first thing he noticed was that someone had left a pile of freshly made clothes on top of the trunk for him; hose, tunic, waistcoat, even clean underwear, he realised, blushing. They were simply made but the stitching was good, he noted, as he pulled them on. The Dwarfettes, if nothing else, were good seamstresses. 

Fully dressed, he made his bed, folded his clothes neatly on top of it and went downstairs. Flora was busy making porridge. “Good morning, your highness,” she said, cheerily. 

“Please stop calling me that,” Gwyn replied, with a smile. “It’s Gwyn.”

“Of course, Gwyn, I forgot. Sorry.”

“That’s alright.” Flora handed him a large steaming bowl of porridge and ushered him into a seat. “So, um, where’s everyone else?” asked Gwyn, looking around the cottage. Even as he said it, he could hear the cheerful sounds of Dora, or maybe it was Nora, singing outside. 

“Well, Dora’s out collecting water and Cora’s gathering berries for a pie; Aurora, Laura, Maura and Nora are at the mines.”

Gwyn hesitated. “You know, I feel bad imposing on your hospitality like this; is there anything I can do to help around the cottage?”

“Oh, sweetie, you don’t have to worry about that,” chuckled Flora. “You’re our guest.”

“But I’d like to make myself useful,” Gwyn insisted. “It’s the least I can do after all you’ve done for me.”

“Oh. Well, aren’t you polite? Very well, then, eat up your breakfast and then you can help me with the cleaning.”

Gwyn did as she bid. “This is delicious,” he told her.

Flora simpered and patted her hair into place. “Well, I do my best, love. We all chip in and lend a hand where it’s needed, like families ought to do.”

“How long have you lived out here?” Gwyn asked. 

“Ooh, ever since we were old enough to live on our own. We moved out of the village and set ourselves up home here. The forest provides us with just about everything, and anything we can’t get, we trade down at the market, with diamonds.”

“You must have a fortune down in those mines.”

“Just a little nest egg we can dip into when we need it. As I said, the forest provides us with most things; food, firewood, water, shelter, just about everything we need.” Flora patted down her apron and picked up the broom. “Now, then, just look at this floor. I’ll have to take up the rugs and beat them outside.”

Gwyn quickly finished his breakfast and got to his feet. “Here, let me do that.”

“Ooh, thank you, lovie. Just hang them on the line and give them a good few whacks with this,” Flora said, handing him a carpet beater. “Until it looks like there’s no dust left in them.”

Gwyn took up the rugs and the beater and went outside. Beyond the front door of the cottage was a brook, running beneath a stone bridge; beyond the bridge was the outskirts of the forest. Hanging stretched between two nearby trees was the said washing line and he hung the rugs over this and began to beat them. 

The first beating brought up great clouds of dust that took him by surprise, causing him to stumble backwards and sneeze all at once. 

“Oh, dear, you don’t have to do that,” said Dora, coming up, carrying a yoke and two buckets full of water. 

“I said I would,” Gwyn began and then sneezed again. 

“Bless you,” clucked Dora, sympathetically. 

“Thanks. I mean, as I was saying to Flora, it’s the least I can do, to help you around the house if I’m going to stay here. I feel bad just doing nothing.”

“Well, if you’re going to work, you’ll have to give it much more welly than that,” Dora replied, dropping the yoke, water slopping, and taking the carpet beater from him. “Use your muscles love, it’s only a rug.” And she gave the thing such a hard wallop that the washing line shook, any spiders spinning on it jumped a foot into the air and the birds in the trees it hung from all took flight, cawing in indignation. “Like that.”

“Right,” smiled Gwyn. “Sorry.”

“That’s ok, ducks, just takes practise.”

“Well, you’d think after working for my stepfather for so long, I’d be able to beat a rug properly,” Gwyn said, beating the rug the way she had just done.

“Working for him?” Dora raised an eyebrow as she picked up her yolk. 

“Well, yes. After my mother died, Lucius dismissed all the servants and made me do all the work.” 

“Oh, sweetie!”

Gwyn shrugged. “He’s not the most loving of men, put it that way.”

“So I hear, if he’s trying to kill you! Well, don’t you worry, love, you’re far away from him now, and safe. We Dwarfettes might be small,” she held up a fist, “but we’re tough!”

Gwyn smiled. “I’m sure you are.”

“Yeah, just let him try and mess with us,” Dora grunted, slouching away. 

Gwyn tried to imagine that the rugs were his stepfather and that he was beating him with as much frustration he could vent. It did the job; they were soon dust free. Flora and Dora were impressed, and so they set him to work dusting, mopping and washing up. Gwyn was a hard worker, well, working for his stepfather, he had had to be, and he did it all without complaint, just glad to be useful. It was certainly a merrier atmosphere than it had been back at the castle. 

Meanwhile, Aurora, Laura, Maura and Nora were hard at work in the mines. They kept finding jewels by the score, but in the end, only half of them were worth anything. Nevertheless, by the time they left the mines, they were carrying a hefty cartload of diamonds. And they pushed the cart homewards, they suddenly realised that they weren’t alone in this part of the forest. 

“Hush!” hissed Maura, straining her ears. “Listen!”

Footsteps? No, hoofbeats! Someone was riding towards them. The four of them picked up their mining axes and readied themselves, should the newcomer prove to be hostile. They were surprised, however, to see that she was female; beautiful with red hair and dressed in clothes of rich nobility, even if she were wearing britches. Upon seeing them, she dismounted and walked up to them. 

“Excuse me,” she said, politely.

“Morning, ma’am,” said Aurora, looking her up and down. “What can we do ya for?”

The girl looked slightly embarrassed and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I was just wondering, um, do you live around here?”

“So what if we do?” asked Laura, defensively.

“Well, you see, I’m looking for someone.”

“And you found four someones,” Nora pointed out, “though I guess we’re not who you’re after?”

“No. I mean, no offence, but...”

“Just who is it you’re looking for?” asked Maura. 

“A young man,” replied the girl, fingering her sleeve, nervously. “He came out here a little while back and I’m worried about him. He might be lost or hurt. I was wondering if you might have seen him.”

“We see a lot of people hereabouts,” Laura replied, narrowing her eyes in suspicion. “Just what does this youth of yours look like, ma’am?”

“Well, he’s tall, a little taller than me,” she added, blushing, hoping she hadn’t offended the Dwarfettes with her reference to height, “and he has ebony hair and dark eyes and skin as white as fresh snow.”

Only Maura noticed that the girl spoke of Gwyn in a dreamy, almost yearning manner. The others blinked, thinking hard. It could easily be a trap, perhaps set up by King Lucius to kill his stepson. Well, they would not allow that to happen to their new friend. “No,” said Aurora, shaking her head. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

“Really?” The girl looked desparate and Maura found herself wondering her reasons for wanting to find the boy. Was she trying to warn him about something? Was she an assassin, cleverly acting her way into his heart? Or, was she...? “Are you sure? His name’s Gwyn.”

“No, doesn’t sound familiar,” declared Nora, folding her arms. “Sound familiar to you, girls?”

“No,” they all agreed.

“Sorry, ma’am, can’t help you,” said Laura, stiffly. 

The girl seemed to deflate. “Ok, well, thank you.”

“Er,” Maura called her back as she turned to go. “By the by, should we happen to see this young man, ought we to tell him you’re looking for him?”

“Oh, yes, if you’d be so good!”

“And what should we say?”

“Tell him...” Tell him I love him, was the first thing that sprang to her mind but she decided against it. “Tell him Rhiannon’s looking for him,” she replied, hoisting herself onto Starbuck’s back. “And thank you, good women.”

She turned Starbuck away from the direction of the Dwarfettes’ cottage and rode away. “Whew!” Nora breathed a sigh of relief. “That was a close one! Let’s get home!”

“Let’s,” agreed Laura, and they hauled their cart back towards the cottage. 

Inside, Gwyn squatted on his haunches, watching as Flora showed him how to fix a chair. That was one thing he had never learned back at the castle; how to fix anything when it broke. Cora was making mutton stew whilst Dora made a gooseberry pie, being careful not to get flour on the nice clean floor. 

“See,” Flora told him, holding up the hammer and admiring her handiwork. “Nothing to it.”

Gwyn picked up the chair and turned it back on its legs just as the others came in. “Hey, wipe your feet!” Dora told them, sternly. “This floor’s just been cleaned!”

“Fusspot,” muttered Laura, removing her clogs. “This place looks spotless!”

“Thanks to Gwyn,” smiled Cora. “He’s been helping out around the house.”

“Oh, you didn’t have-”

“I wanted to,” Gwyn interrupted, with a smile. “You’ve been so good to me, I wanted to pull my weight and help out.”

“Well, you’re very sweet,” smiled Aurora. 

“You know, I think it’ll do us some good to have a man around the house,” said Nora, going to set the table. 

“You sit down and rest,” Flora told Gwyn. “You’ve had a busy day.”

As Gwyn took his seat, Maura sat down beside him. “You know, we met someone in the forest earlier, didn’t we, girls?”

Laura glanced up sharply. “We did. Someone asking for...”

She was about to say directions, but Maura cut across her. “A young man; actually come to think of it, her description sounded a lot like you, Gwyn.”

A chill settled into his stomach. Lilith, he thought, perhaps Lucius had sent her to assassinate him. “What did you say to her?” he asked, uneasily. 

“Oh, we told her we hadn’t seen you and she left, don’t worry,” smiled Nora. 

“She said to say that Rhiannon’s looking for him,” Maura remembered, casually. 

“Rhiannon?” Gwyn sprang to his feet, much to everyone’s surprise. “She’s looking for me?”

“Friend of yours?” asked Laura.

“Yes! A very good friend of mine!” Gwyn could feel his heart leaping. She was looking for him? Then she must know that Lucius had tried to kill him?

“Oh, dear,” fussed Aurora. “If we’d known, we would have led her here.”

“But we couldn’t be sure it wasn’t a trap,” Laura added. “Someone sent to assassinate you for your stepfather.”

“It’s alright,” replied Gwyn, sitting down. “I understand.”

“Don’t you go worrying, ducks,” said Maura, patting his hand. “She might just find you yet.” Then, as the other Dwarfettes got back to work, she added, quietly. “She’s a very beautiful girl if I might say.”

“What?” Gwyn felt himself turning red.

“Oh, I heard the dreamy tone in her voice when she was talking about you.” Maura winked at him. “She’s more than just a friend, isn’t she?”

Gwyn smiled, knowing his secret was safe with her. “Much more.”

"It'll be alright, sweetie," Maura told him, comfortingly. "Love will conquer all. It always does in the end."


	8. Poison

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once upon a time there was a young prince born with skin white as snow. But his handsome stepfather grew jealous of the youth's looks and decided to have him secretly killed. One the run, the prince falls in with some kind-hearted dwarfettes but will he get back to the woman he loves?

Down in the dungeons of the castle, amidst the spider webs and dust, Lucius paced grimly back and forth. Magic, it seemed, was the only way he was going to be able to get rid of that boy without getting his own hands dirty. At length, he removed a large, brown, bejewelled and much dust-covered volume from the shelf. It had been his mother’s favourite spellbook. Not only did it contain spells but also potion and poison recipes. After his father, the fierce warlock Raventhorn had perished in a bloody battle, at the hands of none other than Gwyn’s own father (the two parties had been at war for sometime and Gwyn’s father and his knights had eventually triumphed) his widowed sorceress mother Tabitha had taken great lengths to ensure that her son would grow up to take the throne and thereby take revenge on the entire family. Sh had perished from illness before she had been able to see her son complete his training, but she had left him her books for such occasions.

“You would be proud of me now, Mother,” Lucius muttered, flicking through the book. There was the spell that had caused the fever he had cast on Gwyn’s father, and then there, the illness that had struck down his mother. 

“Illness isn’t good enough for him, though,” Lucius said to a bat lazily hanging in the corner of the room. “It needs to be something special, something guaranteed to work.” His eyes fell on the word “Poison.” He smiled. “Perfect.”

A plan was now forming in his mind. Yes, if he were to come up with some kind of clever disguise and way of poisoning the boy that would not be discovered by whoever found him. 

“What does this say?” He blew away some of the dust. “Poisoned amulet? Place around victim’s neck, fast acting...yes! That’s it!”

It didn’t take long; all he needed was the poison, a length of cord and a carved stone. Then, donning a ragged black cape, he quickly conjured up a disguise that made him look like an old, wizened man. Satisfied, he left the castle in search of the boy. 

Outside the Dwarfettes’ cottage, Gwyn was busily chopping up logs for firewood. He was quite content in his work. The night before, the Dwarfettes had laid on a little party for their honoured guest, with music and dancing. They were all very good at dancing. Gwyn, being a lot taller than them, had felt a little out of place at first, but then Flora had allowed him to pick her up to dance with. “You’re a very good dancer,” she told him. “Your future wife will be very impressed!”

Gwyn had laughed. “I need to find her first, Flora!”

Now, he whistled that same tune they had danced to as he stretched for a moment. It was trying work, but he didn’t mind it. To be perfectly honest, he felt rather useless not working. 

For a second, his thoughts went back to Rhiannon. What was she up to right now? Still looking for him? Perhaps her mistress had sent a search party out – or was she that bothered about the love lives of her servants? Maybe she hadn’t let Rhiannon out today? He sighed, wishing there was some way he could contact her, to let her know he was alright, and to find out how she was. 

“Gwyn?”

He looked up. It was Maura. She and Aurora were in the house today; Cora had gone to market, and Laura, Dora, Nora and Flora were at the mines. “Yes?”

“I need to go to the mines; silly fools the others are, they forgot their lunches! Aurora’s outside with the washing. Will you be alright for a few moments?”

“Oh, yes, I’m sure I’ll be fine,” Gwyn answered. 

“Well, just don’t let any strangers in,” said Maura. 

Gwyn smiled. “I won’t, I promise.”

“Alright, then, I’ll be back soon.” Maura left, with a sack of packed lunches slung over one shoulder. Gwyn smiled. The Dwarfettes were so protective of him, like mother hens over one tiny chick. He went back to his work and whistling. When he had chopped enough logs, he set down the axe, balanced the logs all on top of one another and carried them into the cottage. Maura had been halfway through baking a gooseberry pie when she had noticed the packed lunches had been left behind. Flour and a few bits of broken eggshell lay littered about the floor, and so he got the broom from the closet and began to sweep them up. 

“I say,” said a strange voice suddenly. Gwyn jumped and looked up. Standing in the doorway was an old wizened man, hunched and carrying a basket of...carved stones? Gwyn frowned. 

“May I help you, sir?”

“You couldn’t spare a cup of water for an old man who has travelled far this day, could you, young man? I am very parched.”

Gwyn took pity on him. “Well, yes, if you’ll just wait there, I’ll bring it to you.”

“You are kind,” said Lucius in his disguised voice. 

Gwyn filled a cup from the sink and brought it to him. The old man drank and then handed it back to him. “Thank you, young man, and since you have been so good to me, allow an old pedlar to bestow one of his wares upon you as a gift.”

He handed the poisoned amulet to Gwyn. “What is it?” asked Gwyn. 

“It’s an amulet carved by my own fair hands. Legend says that these stones, plucked from a cave beside the beach, give the wearer complete protection from harm. After all, the cave is rumoured to be the same cave where Merlin the Magnificent was buried.”

Well, thought Gwyn, it would be impolite to refuse and he seems a harmless enough old man and I need all the protection I can get right now, so why not? He put it on. “Well, thank you, and I hope that you manage to sell...”

He stopped and put a hand up to his head. He suddenly felt...strangely drowsy.

“Are you alright, dear boy?” asked Lucius, watching Gwyn stumble to his knees, making no move to help him up. 

“I...I don’t feel...” 

He couldn’t breathe properly. It felt like the walls were closing in around him. He collapsed onto the floor. 

“You thought you could escape me?” sneered Lucius. “But you’re going the same way as your murdering father!”

With a laugh of triumph, he turned and left Gwyn seemingly dead upon the cottage floor. 

But he hadn’t reckoned upon Aurora. Aurora had finished hanging the washing and now she brought the empty basket back into the cottage through the back door. “Gwyn, if you’ve finished chopping, I wonder if you could...”

She broke off with a gasp upon seeing him on the floor. “Gwyn?” She dropped the basket and hurried to his side, rolling him over onto his back. “Gwyn! What is it? Are you in pain? Gwyn!” She tapped his face, hoping he had only fainted, but no, he was unresponsive. 

Her eyes fell to the amulet around his neck. It had turned black as night and she saw that it was carved with an upside down cross. Surely this was an omen of evil? Where could Gwyn have got it from? She snatched at it, breaking the cord and hurled the thing into the fire. Now, stones aren’t supposed to burn, but this one did, sending jets of black smoke up through the chimney, and then all was still as the fire died. 

Gwyn gasped and opened his eyes. “Dear boy, are you alright?” Aurora asked, helping him to sit up. 

“I think so,” Gwyn replied, shaking his head to clear it. “I don’t know what happened. One second, I was fine, and then...” He groped around his neck. “It all happened when I put that amulet on!”

“It’s alright,” Aurora told him, soothingly. “It was some kind of evil magic, but it’s gone now.”

Maura came back then and Gwyn was able to relate to both of them what had happened. Maura shook her head. “I did warn you,” she said sternly.

“I didn’t let him into the house,” Gwyn pointed out.

“The next time someone comes along selling something, don’t buy it,” Maura told him, but then her features softened and she gave him a hug. “You fool!” 

Back in the castle, Lucius threw off his disguise and turned to his mirror. “Magic Mirror on the wall, who is the most handsome ruler of all?”

The mirror replied “Gwyn art handsome, Gwyn art grand, Gwyn art the most distinguished man in all the land.”

Lucius blanched. “What? NO! I killed the boy! Show him to me!”

The mirror immedietly showed him Gwyn sitting on a chair, being fussed over by the Dwarfettes. “Curse those women!” Lucius snapped. “And curse myself as well! Of course that was too obvious a method! But my next try will be the one to kill him!”

And so, cunning as ever, he spent the rest of the night perfecting his plan before disguising himself as a distinguished travelling barber and in the morning, he set out once more for the Dwarfettes’ cottage. 

Luckily, for him this time, Gwyn was alone in the cottage. All the Dwarfettes had gone to the mine today, since they had found a great deal of diamonds the day before and needed more muscle to dig them out. So, Gwyn had been left in the house with strict instructions not to let anyone in and not to buy anything offered today. So, simply to keep from being bored, Gwyn had tried his hand at cooking dinner. He had done a fair job so far, well, that is to say he had chopped up the met and vegetables and was just washing his hands when a voice said “Zoots alore, what is this?”

Again, Gwyn jumped and he looked up to see a suave looking man with a thin moustache staring in through the window. He looked around, puzzled. “What is what?”

“Well, this disaster on top of your head!” said the man, patting Gwyn’s dark hair. 

Worried, Gwyn ran his hands through it. “What’s wrong with my hair?” 

“Well, nothing, if your wife or betrothed likes it in this mad, messed style!” smirked Lucius in his disguised voice.

Gwyn flushed. “I don’t have a wife or betrothed.”

“With your hair like that, I’m not surprised! But I see I am bothering you here, I will go!”

“No, wait!” Gwyn hesitated. He wasn’t particularly vain, but he certainly didn’t want Rhiannon to find him with his hair a mess, if it truly was. “There is a girl I like...a lot.” He hesitated. “Actually, I think I might be in love with her.”

“No?” Lucius feigned surprise. “Well, then, you must allow me to run this through your hair!” He held up a large black comb with a flouish. The comb, unknown to Gwyn, was poisoned. “One sweep of his through your hair and she will most certainly be impressed!”

“I’m afraid I can’t let you into the house,” Gwyn began. 

“No need, we do it here. Come forward, dear boy.”

Unsuspecting anything, Gwyn leaned forwards and Lucius sank the comb into his hair, releasing the deadly poison. 

“Ouch!” exclaimed Gwyn, reeling back. “What the-?”

This poison was even more fast acting than the first and he slumped to the floor. 

The Dwarfettes found him when they got home. “Oh, my goodness, no!” exclaimed Flora, as they all threw down their tools and fell beside him. 

“It’s not an amulet this time!” cried Aurora. 

“Could it be this?” snapped Laura, whipping the comb from Gwyn’s hair. 

It did the trick. Gwyn opened his eyes. “What happened?”

“That’s what we’d like to know,” Maura said, sternly. “I told you-!”

“Oh, leave off him, Maura!” snapped Laura, throwing the comb out of the window. “The boy’s traumatized!”

“Curses!” howled Lucius, as the mirror showed him the Dwarfettes hugging a very much alive Gwyn. “I cannot fail this time! It’s those women! They’re never going to leave him alone after this!” He thought it over and smiled. “Well, my next disguise will be one that not even they can resist! Gwyn is so innocent; he’ll think nothing of accidently buying poison from...a child!”


	9. To Trust, To Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once upon a time there was a young prince born with skin white as snow. But his handsome stepfather grew jealous of the youth's looks and decided to have him secretly killed. One the run, the prince falls in with some kind-hearted dwarfettes but will he get back to the woman he loves?

Rhiannon, meanwhile, was fed up of riding. She had been searching for three whole days now. Her parents and siblings were desperately worried about her, she knew, for she had seen their search parties and evaded them. For she knew that if she were discovered, her parents wouldn’t allow her to carry on searching for “some mystery boy who’s probably dead now, if no half-dead, given the dangers in that forest.” She could hear her father saying it even now. 

Starbuck snorted as she slid from his back and sank to the floor. He, on the other hand, was perfectly content with all this riding; all this exercise and fresh air and free food and water. Rhiannon couldn’t help but smile at him. “It’s alright for you,” she said. “You’re not in love yet.”

Yes, she just knew it was true now. She was in love with Gwyn. How could anyone not be? How could anyone who saw him not lose their heart to him instantly? 

She looked up. It was getting dark now. She shrugged the blankets off Starbuck’s back and arranged them to sleep on. “We’ll rest her and carry on in the morning,” she told him. 

Starbuck snorted, as if to say “Fine by me” and then nestled down beside her and went to sleep. Rhiannon leaned against him and began to dream of Gwyn. 

She was woken quickly, however, by a nicker from Stabuck. Looking around, she suddenly realised how still it was, no sound, apart from a rustling of dead leaves on the ground...no, not dead leaves, footsteps, no, the sound of...paws!

Rhiannon jumped to her feet just as the soft growling reached her ears. Wolves! Starbuck was on his feet. Seizing a large stick on the ground that could make do as some kind of weapon in a crisis, Rhiannon leapt onto his back and together they rode into the thick of the forest. Rhiannon could hear the wolves, snarling and growling, as they ran after the pair of them. She realised, for the first time since she had ever come to the forest, that she was scared. 

“Come on, Starbuck!” she cried and Starbuck picked up the pace, but the wolves were relentless in their pursuit. One leapt at her and she hit out, knocking it back with the stick as they crashed through the underbrush. They were coming to a stream now, she could hear the running water, and, was that a house up ahead, those lights?

Starbuck splashed through the stream but then one of the wolves ran under his feet. Starbuck, startled, reared back and threw Rhiannon. She landed half on the bank, half in the stream. The wolves didn’t want Starbuck, she realised, they wanted her. Starbuck whinnied and stomped, trying to kick them, but they were running for her. She felt around for her stick but she had lost it when she was thrown. As they came running towards her, she screamed. 

And then, before the one standing right in front of her could touch her, something came flying through the air and hit it hard on the side of the face. The wolf yelped like a dog and turned to see what had hit it. Rhiannon looked up. It was those women she had met only the other day, but there were more of them now and they were throwing...rocks? No, not rocks, diamonds!

The wolves backed off as one of the Dwarfettes charged with a pitchfork and then as the others began to pelt them with more diamonds, they turned tail and fled. 

“And stay out!” snapped Laura, who was wielding the pitchfork. “Fleabags!”

“Are you alright?” Aurora asked Rhiannon, approaching her. 

“I think so,” Rhiannon replied, trying to sit up. Her ankle twinged suddenly, painfully, and she winced. “Ouch! I think I-”

“Rhiannon?”

She looked up and felt her jaw drop. “Gwyn?”

Gwyn splashed quickly towards her and as he bent beside her, she flung her arms around his neck, without stopping to think about what she was doing. “I can’t believe I’ve found you!” she exclaimed, relief washing over her like water. 

Gwyn hugged her back, firmly. “I’ve missed you,” he told her, softly. “So much.”

“I’ve missed you too,” she whispered back. 

“Are you alright?” Gwyn pulled back to drink in her beauty once more. “Did they hurt you?”

“No, but I think I did something to my ankle when Starbuck threw me.” Rhiannon felt it and winced. “Yes, I think I’ve sprained it.” Starbuck hung his head. “Yes,” Rhiannon told him, only half in earnest, “You should well be ashamed!”

Gwyn helped her to her feet, gingerly. She wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned against him. Maura smiled. “You must come in and we’ll take a look at that ankle. And your horse can shelter for the night with our old mares.”

“Thank you, that’s very kind of you,” said Rhiannon, “but I don’t want to put you out.”

“Nonsense, it’s no trouble at all,” replied Cora, picking up one of the diamonds they had thrown at the wolves. She turned to Laura. “Now do you see the point of keeping the worthless ones?”

Laura rolled her eyes. “Alright, alright.”

Rhiannon giggled, uncertainly. Gwyn smiled at her. “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it.”

He helped her into the cottage whilst Dora and Flora led Starbuck to the stable. “Oh, dear, you’re soaked to the bone!” cooed Maura, sympathetically. “I’ll get you some dry clothes; you sit by the fire.”

“Thank you,” replied Rhiannon as Gwyn helped her into a seat. He hesitated. “I should take a look at your ankle.”

“I didn’t know you were medically trained,” she teased.

“Well, working for my stepfather I kind of had to learn how to treat my own in juries,” Gwyn said, without thinking. Rhiannon stared at him. Gwyn bit his lip. “I mean...”

“You’re a prince?” Rhiannon exclaimed. 

“Yes.” Gwyn sighed. “Lucius is my stepfather and he’s forced me to work for him since I was a child. I’m sorry I lied to you.”

Rhiannon put her head on one side. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Gwyn sighed, massaging her ankle, absent-mindedly. “Because it was easier to pretend that I was a servant too. And, heck, with the life I was living, I practically was. Would you have believed me if I’d told you the truth?”

Rhiannon hesitated. “Probably not.” She took a deep breath. “But, Gwyn, you should know, I’m not a servant either.” Gwyn looked up at her and she blushed, deeply. “I’m a princess.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“For the same reason you didn’t tell me. I’m sorry.”

Gwyn smiled. “Well, that’s fair enough, I suppose.” She met his smile with one of her own, looking prettier than ever. “How does your ankle feel now?”

“A bit better, thank you.”

“Here, ducks,” said Cora, coming in with a blanket which she draped around Rhiannon’s shoulders. “I’ll make you a cup of tea.”

“You’re very kind,” smiled Rhiannon, gratefully. 

Laura, however, folded her arms. “How do we know that you’re not someone in disguise who wants to kill ou boy Gwyn here?”

“Laura!” scolded Flora. 

“Well, the boy’s nearly been poisoned twice today already-!” began Laura. 

“Poisoned?!” Rhiannon stared at Gwyn. “Are you alright?” She seized his hands. “What happened?” 

Gwyn smiled and squeezed her hands back. “I’m fine, don’t worry.” He looked up at Laura. “I trust her.”

“You trusted the people who tried to poison you today too,” grunted Laura. 

“But what happened?” Rhiannon persisted. 

Gwyn explained it all to her and she listened with bated breath. “But it must have been Lucius!” she exclaimed. “He’s already tried to kill you once!”

“We ought to storm his castle and give him a taste of his own medicine!” Laura growled. 

“No one is storming anything!” snapped Flora. “Our young guest needs a hot bath and bed rest, and we should all go to bed and think about what to do in the morning.”

“Do you have a spare bed?” asked Gwyn. 

“I don’t mind sleeping on the floor,” began Rhiannon. 

“A floor’s no place for a princess!” Gwyn said. 

“I’ve been sleeping out in the wilderness for three days,” she argued. 

“Well, no one sleeps on the floor in this house,” said Aurora. “Maura and I can push our beds together and we’ll kip down here for the night.”

“Well, if you’re sure,” said Rhiannon. 

“We are, love,” replied Maura. “Now, come on, the bathroom’s this way and then we’ll see about your ankle.”

“Well, it feels a little better now,” replied Rhiannon, getting to her feet. “Thank you.”

Gwyn smiled as he watched her leave. He couldn’t believe it. Rhiannon, his Rhiannon, was here, with him. 

“I’m keeping an eye on her,” Laura muttered. "I think she's already poisoned your mind as it is, lad!"


End file.
